The Rat's Tale
by Sogni Seri
Summary: Everyone knows of the one called the wretched betrayer? The one we all despise for his acts, for what he did to Harry Potter. Peter Wormtail Pettigrew. Not anyone's favorite, now is he? Yet, did anyone give him a chance to tell his side of the story? Hear
1. Guilt

A Prologue

_**Guilt**_

_It would be easier to run…I can't tell them. I must remain loyal and not let them know. I can't let the truth be told._

The midnight sky cast a shadow over the cold, eerie streets. A fog hung thick above the pavement and grass. No star or moon was visible in the overcast above, and the dim street lamps shed hardly enough light to see at all.

A rusted, iron fence towered ominously at the edge of a sidewalk, following around the corner of a street for a ways and then stopping. The fence dissolved into a gate somewhere in the center of the length, and behind the gate stood an old, worn down house. It was the type of house you'd see in horror movies, with the horror come to life. Gray, moldy looking paint was chipped off the wood boards of the house. The front porch was almost no more. Rotted wood placed at the front of the house, seeming to be left of what was once stairs. It was a tall, menacing house, with shadowed windows where the glass was broken in most of them. Either that or they were too caked in dust to see through. The fence ran along the equally desolate yard. Dead, brown grass wet with the accumulation of fog was the liveliest item on the lawn. Along the fence stood black, dead trees, some hollow, some looking as if they'd hold a few more weeks.

Along the cracked path leading to the house stood a short, pudgy man. He fidgeted, pacing back and forth as if pondering fervently. He was garbed in deep green robes that covered his feet and even trailed slightly along the ground behind him. The hood of the robes was tugged up on his head, hiding a muss of brown, mangled hair and scared, beady eyes. The little man was muttering to himself in a high, tiny whimper of a voice. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, as a light gust, or breath of air, announced the arrival of another cloaked figure. Taller, thinner, and more menacing was the new arrival, towering over the pudgy little man as he approached.

"Still meandering about here, Wormtail? I'd have figured you would be gone on a…visit…" the taller figure muttered, emphasizing the final word. Its voice was cold and hissing, sending a shiver down the spine of the man it had addresses as 'Wormtail'. He swallowed and spoke.

"N-no…master…" he spoke in a high-pitched voice, strained, as if holding his tongue against something.

"No?" it tsked once…twice…three times, "too bad…might care to go now, for by morning there will be nothing left to see but ash."

The small man curled his small hands into fists, and they soon began to shake. Finally he spoke through gritted teeth, a hiss much like the menacing one – the one he called master. Though his voice was just as quiet.

"You promised…." he paused, then shouted, "You promised me!"

From beneath the hood red, snake-like eyes glinted, peering down at him. They expressed delight.

"If I may say the truth?" He inquired. The smaller man nodded reluctantly and he could see the larger man sneer from under his hood. The man bent down a small distance, looking straight into the smaller man's face.

"I lied…"

The smaller man stood stiff, a cold pang of anger, sorrow, and quilt washing over him, paralyzing him. He held back his tears as best he could manage while staring into the face of his own betrayer.

"Take the night off, Wormtail…go see. But he back in the morning or it's your life as well as the little one's…"

These words made the little man jump, his heart pounding in his ears. A shrill, spine trembling laughter, as soft as the hum of a hummingbird's wings, was emitted from the taller man as he stood and swept by the small man. But, still, the smaller man did not move.

"I said go, Wormtail…I have plans yet to make for the execution of your…friends…"

As if weightless, the man moved up the stairs and across the porch, soon to be swallowed by the pitch dark of the eerie home.

The small man stayed frozen only moments after, and then bolted down the path and out of the gates, somehow managing not to stumble over his robes. He rounded the corner of the intersecting streets, where a large brick wall hid the fence around the haunting home. However, he smashed into something solid and was sent staggering back, his hood falling from his head. He looked up to see what he'd collided with and whimpered helplessly.

"You…" said a low, growling voice. Tears now started to pour from the small man's eyes, rolling down his dingy cheeks in a dull, yet pitiful manner. He stared up at the equally dingy face, the equally mussed shoulder-length black hair, and the cold, furious eyes glaring down at him. In one swift move his new acquaintance grabbed the small man by the scruff and pinned him against the wall with such strength the man could not even cry out.  
"You filthy, low-life, murderous little retch!" his attacker hissed, still glaring. The small man wriggled and whined helplessly, to no avail.

"S-S-Sirius…!" he gasped. _How does he know! How did he find out!_ He could not explain himself, for the black-haired man pressed his arm into his throat harder, but then found to be pressing against nothing. the black-haired man jerked forward lightly as the man he'd been threatening just…disappeared. He held only the man's green robes. He sneered in anger and looked back and forth along the wall and to the corner. The only thing visible was a small rat scuttling away and turning the corner. The black-haired man started running in that same direction, but soon he too vanished. The streets became eerily empty again, save for a large black dog bounding soundlessly down to the end of the street, and out of sight.


	2. A Daydream

A resonant commotion of voices floated through the halls of the great, grand school, leaking out onto the lush grounds. The sun glared brightly, illuminating the green grass and leaves of tress scattered about. The rippling lake reflected the sunlight lustrously, blinding those who cause flash of the mirrored rays.

As cliques of groups began to pile out under the clear sky, the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry became alive with babble. A particular group, sitting just out of the shade of a large oak tree by the lakeside, consisted of six people- all of whom were talking ecstatically but one.

A resound laughter fluttered from the mouths of the group except for a small, mousy boy with brown hair and beady eyes. Lost, oblivious to those surrounding him the boy seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, staring off across the grounds to another groups of students with a dreamy expression.

"Yo, Wormtail!" a boy within the group called to the daydreamer. Snapping from his thoughts, he looked to the boy with long, black hair and scheming eyes.

"Huh?" he questioned, looking then at each of the group members in turn. Sitting beside the black-haired boy was another shorter black haired boy, with beautiful crystal eyes. At his side was a red-haired woman, with the clearest and brightest green eyes you'd ever know, and a kind, gentle face. Next he was looking into the bright brown eyes of a black haired woman, who was looking at him inquisitively. Beside her was the final person he looked at, a brown haired, smiling eyed boy who had his arm around the black-haired woman.

He winced, however, at the expressions of the boy's faces, it pained him to see such expressions. Alas, he should've been used to them for they were the expressions always showing on their faces when they spoke of him or looked at him. Expressions of dominance, disgust, annoyance; as if looking down at him as dirt. He was a worm in a garden, helpful but a pain if you're trying to work with the dirt because he always seemed to be in the way. The boy tried to ignore this and the disgusted tone of his friend's voice as he listened.

"You've been spaced out this entire time, you didn't even join in the toast for our graduation. Get with the program Wormtail!" the long-black-haired boy snapped. The brown haired boy cut in.

"Awe, he was just dazed, Sirius. Leave him be, he's probably just overwhelmed with the end of school,"

"Yea, overwhelmed he passed…" the boy, called Sirius, commented. The brown haired boy, known as Remus Lupin, scowled. Remus was soft-spoken, descent, and sometimes even kind to the 'worm' of the group, as well as liked by him. The shorter black haired boy then spoke.

"What will you become, Peter?" he asked. Peter Pettigrew, or "Wormtail", was the name of the boy the question was directed to. The worm- he found it odd that his nickname had no association with the way he thought himself among his 'friends'. Though his real name seemed to be spat, sharp and bitter, on the tongue's of his friends. Even with dear Remus.

"Become?" Peter echoed in a voice slightly higher than all the other boys, "I…do not know yet,"

With a small ensuing silence, the group continued on speaking with one another, leaving the Peter alone.

"We all know what you're going to be, James Potter!" Sirius exclaimed, speaking to the black-haired boy who's cut was shorter than his.

"Indeed!" said the red-haired woman at his side, "Quidditch player of course!"

"Hm…speaking of future plans, there's something I wanted to take care of before I actually try for that profession…" James stated, turning to her.

Peter managed to focus his attention of James, for some odd reason intrigued.

James turned to the woman and kissed her cheek.

"I love you, and I know you love me. Before we make any plans for A.T.C.'s, there is one thing I must ask you,"

She looked at him with a bewildered expression. Quickly, James' hand reached into his pocket and back out.

"Lily Evans. Will you marry me?"


	3. Amor

The woman, addressed as Lily, gasped.

"There's no reason to say no, James. There's no way I can say no…"

Peter watched still as James slipped the small diamond ring onto his lover's finger, though all conversation seemed to have been blocked out as he watched their affection grow with that one simple question. Peter suddenly jerked his attention back to the group of students under the shade of a tree across the field of green grass.

He caught the eye of a girl, laughing among her companions. Peter's nerves slightly jumped as he saw her smile, looking at him. He gave a small grin in return and watched as her attention returned to her friends. After a moment she stood up, saying a few words Peter guessed were sayings of dismissal.

He glanced at her occassionally as she made up toward the school and he stood up as well.

"And where are _you_ going?" snered a cold voice, talking bitterly to his back. Peter stuttered for a moment, trying to think.

"Um-Uh…I'm…I'm going to go pack now," he paused, waiting for a response. When he received none he began to walk, speedily, toward the school entrance.

"Pete! Petey!" he head the whisper around the corner of the stone building and his head whipped around. There he saw the same girl who had previously been enjoying the company on her friends.

Slowly, warily, Peter started over, taking in her features, his face becoming alight as he moved closer. She had cream colored skin, smooth as silk. Her eyes were a brilliant blue, lighter than the sky color, and her hair was a golden blonde- though curly and bushy. It was the only factor, according to Peter's friends, that kept her from being acceptably pretty. However, to Peter, Adela Anderson was the most beautiful creature of all the world.

"Adell! I wondered when-" she hushed Peter, smiling.

"We don't want to get caught, do we? And be thought that we're off for something more than we intend for?"

"You mean _you_ don't want to get caught…nothing more can happen to me. I mean, they can't take my graduate away can they?"

The girl laughed softly and took Peter's hand. They began to walk around the outskirts of the grounds, talking hand in hand. Exchanging smiles and, when arriving again at the side they started at, a small kiss.

"Pete…what am I going to do next year?"

She looked up at him solemnly, her normally heavenly voice full of dismay. Peter gave an encouraging smile.

"Write me every day,"

"But…you'll stay loyal with me?"

Peter nodded, but saw that Adela didn't seem convinced. Peter thought for a few moments, silence dropping down on them as night did. Finally Peter grasped the soft hands of the woman before him.

"Marry me, Adela."


	4. A Wrong Reaction

Her stunned silence caused Peter to start fidgeting. however, he never broke eye contact.

"M-marry...? Marry you...?" she stuttered after several minutes. Peter's mind flashed back to his two friends. Mr. and soon to be Mrs. Potter. His thought's flashed to their shared passion, intensified love-her acceptance.

"Peter! I...we- we can't marry!"

The words stung the waiting boy's entire body, but he remained motionless as she continued.

"I still have a year of school, and you'll have to focus on A.T.C.'s and-"

He couldn't let her continue much longer, he pressed his finger to her lips and smiled.

"Secret...secret marraige- no one even knows we're together. We won't tell anyone. Your parents don't have to know, and you won't get into trouble with them. Just choose a friend for witness each, and a priest- they'll be the only to know,"

Adela looked terrified, her eyes wide and watery. She parted her lips with a dry sob.

"But I...I can't...I can't think right now, Peter...talk to me on the train,"

With that she moved around Peter and walked up into the school.

_Peter..._

She never called him Peter. Never.

He started around the outskirts of the ground again.

This was not the reaction he expected.


	5. Discovered by Fault

As he walked, Peter's thoughts were focused on a wedding...in secret, if she had said yes.

_Remus is the closest things I have to a friends,_ he thought_, I'd ask him to be my witness. He'd understand to keep it a secret, I know, he's got so many secrets of his own._

"So, Petey..."

Peter froze where he stood. He knew that voice. He turned around, facing the dark shadow before him, the moonlight caught a glare off the rim of something metal. Glasses. Peter took a deep breath in the cooling night air. He said nothing.

"After you said you were going to pack, I came after you. You know we're not going home with the rest on the train tomorrow..."

"How long have you been following me, James?"

"Who is she?"

"No one you need to know,"

"You asked her to marry you- do you mean that? Or was it only because I asked Lily?"

"No! Not everything is about you, James!"

Silence followed Peter's words, but the boy could tell James was sneering. Still, Peter's breath was heavy with anger, and he quivered slightly. Suddenly, when the shadowed boy spoke, his voice was soft and understanding.

"Do you love her?"

"More than you know..." Peter's voice was harsh and quiet, but now riddled with sadness, anguish, at the thought that he could lose that love if he didn't see her tomorrow. His next words were plagued with plea, "please, James...I have to see her on the train tomorrow. She could leave me! I couldn't bare to have that happen..."

James stepped forward, moving into the light in front of Peter. He stared down at the mousy boy with a pained curiosity.

"Why don't you tell anyone about you two...?"

Peter fought back his sob, trying to maintain what little dignity he held in the black-haired boy's eyes.

"She's...not allowed to date. Her parent's would harm her if they found out she was seeing someone. She's supposed to have an arranged marraige, and her parents don't want anyone getting in the way,"

"You truly love her?"

Peter nodded, not meeting James' eye out of fear.

"Then why do you put her in danger? Isn't it better if she not see anyone?"

Peter fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands at that point.

"But she came to me! She wanted to be with me! But you're right...I took it too far now...and she's not going to want to stay with me now!"

James bent down, pulling Peter to his feet and standing him straight.

"Yes she will. You go home on the train tomorrow, I'll tell the others you fell ill and had to leave. But, we need you tonight, or we can't get passed the tr-"

They both jerked there heads at a shout, coming from across the grounds, followed by a snarl and finally...

Peter jumped at James hit his shoulder and, before Peter's eyes, changed into a brilliant, strong Stag. Following suit, Peter quickly transformed into a pudgy rat, and scuttled after James across the grounds toward the source of the great howl they had heard only second before. Before taking off, however, Peter glanced up at the bright light shining down from the sky. The full moon, at this time, seemed to Peter to be an omen of hatred. A demon.

* * *

OOOTAY! This is my first note so far….so I'm wondering what everyone who reads this thinks. Please leave me a review telling me how I'm doing? I'm not giving any more chapters until I get some reviews! Pleeeaase? 

Muchas Gracias, and I do hope you are enjoying the reading…I try to make my writing interesting (but sometimes I get too into details…..heh).

-MUAH-


	6. The Present Spite

"He got away, Remus! I swear to it, I'll find him...and when I do- he is a dead rat. Dead!"

A tall man stormed, pacing back and forth along a dusty wooden floor. The ancient, rotting wood creaked underneath his weight. The man was thin, with long black hair that was mussed, adding to the ragged rough texture of his feature. The dark eyes burned with fury and a deep sadness, and guilt. Another man leaned against a wall made of wood similar to that of underneath his feet. This man was shorter, but even thinner than the pacing man. His clothes were worn and ragged as well, and the man looked of ill health. His short brown hair was just long enough to hang in his eyes, which were also a dark color, but usually seemed brighter than the eyes of the pacing man. However, at the time, the brightness was gone, replaced with sadness, laden with a glossy cover that made it look as if the man was constantly on the verge of tears. The man opened his mouth, and spoke in a heavy tone.

"Sirius...don't be ridiculous...you'll end up in Azkaban...Lily and James are dead- yes. But we musn't lose our senses. It would be unwise and shameful to our beloved friends of late if we did anything too rash. Killing Peter will not solve anything. He must have his reasons for doing what he did."

"Oh be real, Remus! What reasons could that worm possibly have to give away his best friends! Nothing is more important than that!" the man, addressed as Sirius, stopped pacing and turned to the man he'd addressed as Remus. Though his grit-covered face was contorted in complete rage, tears ran down his cheeks in a constant flow. There was a moment of thick silence between the two, and finally Sirius put his dirty face into his equally dirty hands, sobbing. He fell to his knees, overcome with grief. For, as they'd only found out hours before, there two best friends had been murdered. Murdered by the horrid wizard whose name brought fear to every wizard, whose infamous wrath influenced the entire wizarding world. The wizard they called "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Voldemort.

Remus stood up straight, moving over to Sirius and bending down by his side, patting his back and sympathizing- even though tears were running down his own cheeks.

"Sirius...he had his reasons- I'm sure of it..."

Sirius jerked away, once again enraged.

"Just who's side are you on, Remus! Peter Pettigrew led to the slaying of Lily and James! And you're making excuses for him! What in bloody hell are you thinking?"

Remus hesitated, choosing his words carefully,

"Because...Peter wouldn't do something like that...without good reason..."

Sirius scoffed at him and turned on his heel, walking toward the door

"I'm going to their home…or what's left of it," he stopped at the doorframe and turned back, staring intently at Remus, taking a long moment to let the silence pierce Remus' ears.

"I hear…he survived,"

Remus, who had been staring at the ground, looked up suddenly

"James?"

For a moment, a flicker appeared at the corner of Sirius' lip, but only a flash, and it was gone in a moment. He spoke just before turning back and leaving Remus to himself.

"Harry,"


	7. The Calm Before the Storm

A/N: In case you haven't noticed, or are finding it hard to follow along...this story jumps around in setting and date...I think it's rather easy, once you start reading, to figure out where you are, but if anyone's having trouble, PLEASE tell me and I'll help to clarify each post...

Thanks! And, I had to put more up...it just seems so...inactive, I figure it would be a while before I got some reviews, so I decided to write some more (my creative juices were really going today...) and put it up, and hopefully spark some reviews that way.. (doubtful, but hey! I tried! And I'll keep on trying...)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy - And this post really gives a lot of Peter's "reasoning" away, but it's not the end...definitely not...

* * *

Peter walked up the steps of a small blue house, looking content. He held a paper bag in his right hand, and was digging in his pockets with his left, looking for something. He paused at the top of the steps on the tiny porch it held, with enough room for a swinging chair and a potted plant.

Finding what he needed, Peter extracted a ring of a few dull keys and, opening a screen door first, stuck one of the keys into a lock and turned it. He tried the handle only to find that he had locked the door, it had been unlocked. A flash of panic ran through his body as he contemplated what had happened. Had someone broken into his home? Or did he simply forget to lock the house this morning?

Peter cautiously turned the key again and opened the door, cursing the loud creaking groan it sounded at the slightest movement. Immediately, the scent of apples and cinnamon reached his nostrils and he went into a moment of delirium – he loved homemade apple pie.

At that moment he figured it out. She had come home early, to surprise him, as he had intended for her. Peter smirked and walked in. He walked through the warm living room, where flames were dancing quietly in a fireplace on the opposite side of the room, and arrived through a doorway into the dining room. He was greeted, there, with dim lighting and brightly lit candles on the table, rose petals scattered about the room, and a meal already set up. Peter smiled brightly; the petals were from the roses he had sent to her at work.

Peter walked then into the kitchen, where he found the golden-headed woman hard at work on a perfectly made apple pie. He set his parcel down onto the counter and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and whispered into her ear.

"Happy Anniversary, my love…"

He felt her beam as she put her hands over his.

"The same to you, Pete…"

She turned around, and Pete gazed into her brilliant blue eyes before kissing her deeply.

"You stole my very thoughts, dear Adela."

"Did I? Oh, but I've been planning this for weeks!"

"As have I!"

She laughed, and Peter couldn't help but smile.

"Ah…as if it matters anyway, we a both here and ready to celebrate, are we not?"

At her nod, Peter turned and took a bottle of fine champagne from the paper bag he'd carried home with him.

In a few minutes, when Adela had put the pie into the oven to bake, they both sat at the table, sharing toasts and talking about what had happened over their day and throughout their lives.

When the plates had finally been cleared, and things were starting to clean themselves up, Adela went to get the pie from the oven. Peter asked.

"How did we end up like this? How did we end up staying together?"

Adela laughed as she carried the pie to the table.

"I think the question is, how did I get away from my parents?"

Peter smiled, speaking again.

"But, really…don't you remember what happened?"

Adela sat down

"I do, and I'm not pleased with it…"

"What, me?"

"No…with how I acted. I should have considered your reason and feeling more…you were only trying to show your love for me…"

"Yes…but, in the process, humiliating you and exposing us and getting you into trouble on top of it!"

"But you still have me now, so what does it matter?"

"I just…" Peter stood up, ignoring the piece of pie Adela had been slicing for him. He suddenly looked very solemn, and scared. Adela, abandoning the knife, stood and walked to him

"Pete?"

He turned to her

"Do you really want me? I mean, do you really want to stay with me?"

She looked aghast.

"What kind of a question is that? On our anniversary! What could possibly make you ask something like that?"

Peter grabbed Adela's shoulders suddenly, looking pale as a ghost.

"Adela…we are in trouble…you are in trouble. In danger! You and-"

"I don't want to hear it, Peter…whatever it is, it can wait for this day to be over…now, let's just have some dessert and forget about this for now, shall we?"

Peter sighed and nodded, dropping his arms.

They sat and talked for a long while as they ate, it was dark out now, and the candles had burned down low, but weren't to the point of going out yet. They had nearly forgotten about their previous conversation when-

_BANG!_

Peter jumped up at the crash at their front door; Adela stood after him and clung to his arm, murmuring into his ear.

"Pete-"

"Go upstairs, Adela…" he hissed to her. There was another loud crash at their door.

"But…Pete-"

"Go upstairs, now! Go and take care of-"

_**CRASH!**_

A resounding sound cut Peter off, and Adela nodded, dashing to the back entrance from the dining room, where the staircase to the upper floor was located. Peter, slowly, walked out into the living room. He became terrified, and knelt onto one knee.

"My lord, I was not expecting you here…"

"I wasn't expecting you to put magical protections on both your doors, Wormtail…clever…more than I thought you could…produce."

The voice he heard was whispy, pausing at different points to emphasize. The tone was cold, unwelcoming, and it trickled the icy sense of fear through Peter's flesh, blood…his very bone. Peter felt tears welling in his eyes. _Not here!_ He thought. _Not now!_

"Y-yes, my lord…to what do I owe the-"

"You know perfectly well what I come for…Pettigrew…"

He left the looming presence lingering before him, only inches before him.

"Either tell me…where they are hiding or"

A loud cry sounded from the upper floor, the sound of a baby. Peter looked up in fright, knowing that was bad. He dared to look up at Lord Voldemort's dark features, and was terrified to find surprise and, what worse, interest.

"Well, well…is that a child I hear, Wormtail? The young one…has finally arrived…?"

Peter bit his lip and, reluctantly, nodded.

"And why, might I ask, was I not informed of this?"

Peter remained silent, knowing that his master knew perfectly well the reason _why_.

"Aaah…yes…you are correct in fearing, Wormtail. You possess information that I do not and, therefore…are subject to endangering those...close to you…"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't. He just couldn't betray them! But…what about Adela, she didn't' deserve this. She, nor the baby. He felt the Dark Lord's presence step around him and begin to move further into his home. _They were never nice to you anyway! You cannot let the only person who has ever cared for you be destroyed! You hate them!_

"All right!" he shouted, standing and turning to face his master, the master he feared too much to display his loathing to. Peter felt the tears running down his face as he spoke.

"I'll tell you where they're hiding…"


	8. A Disturbing Distraction

A/N - I wrote this rather fast...I thought I had creative juices...but they got stuffed up...so, this is what I have at the moment for the next part (a little filler, not really to important, the next part will be, though...) so, I'll probably edit it to be better eventually, but I wanted to get something up...this is so dead! It makes me sad ;;. Anyway, I'll stop ranting and let you read now...

* * *

Peter stood aside and watched from within the rotting walls of the Shrieking Shack. He watched Sirius, taking the form of a large, black dog, and James as a brilliant stag as they fought against their dearest friend- their dearest friend who now took the form of a vile, vicious beast – a werewolf. Yet, as he stared at the struggle, his thoughts were nowhere near his friends, or the Shrieking Shack.Peter! We can't marry…

Tears stung his eyes. He had to talk to her, he had to explain, and get her back before it was too late. What was he doing here! He could do nothing…he was too small…he could slip out, unnoticed, get back before the boats left to take students to the train station. He could – just to see her…hold her in his arms, tells her he was sorry. She would take him back, and they would work something out.

A snarl snapped Peter from his daydream, and he looked up to see Sirius out of his dog animagus, glaring at Peter.

"Damn it, stop being useless Peter! Start helping out or someone is going to get –

A large snarl and a cracking noise brought both of their focuses toward the remaining two figures. The werewolf had caught James's animagus form under the breast and, with the hideous crack, then effortlessly hurled him at the opposite wall. The large black dog, back again, charged – startling Peter slightly – at the werewolf now towering threateningly over his helpless friend.

With a bounding leap, Sirius caught the beast at the shoulders and pinned him down, causing the creature's head to smack on the wooden floorboards under it and render it unconscious. It had always been their last resort.

Peter scurried over to the stag's side, forming back into himself, at the same time seeing the stag melting into its original human form, crumpled and defeated on the floor. Peter bit his lip at the sight; he saw the blood and turned his head away. Sirius, making sure the unconscious Remus was tightly secured by binding spells, crawled over.

"Stop being such a sissy, Wormtail! We've got to get him help!"

Peter turned his head back and stared at the hideous gash left by the werewolf's claws, leading down to show off even a bit of white at one part, and at another the white of James' rib was jutting clear out from the wound. The force of the blow had cleanly snapped the bone as well as tearing the flesh. Peter looked up at Sirius, speaking in a voice so unlike his own.

"Find some cloth in this house to stop the bleeding, then…"

In an instant, Peter was once again a rat, scurrying along the dusty floor back to the passageway that led to the school. Yet, as he hurried to go find James some help, his mind only held one thought.

_James may be dying…he'd be letting Lily down…he would lose her…I can't lose her! I must go to Adela!_

As he reached Hogwarts grounds and dodged the Whomping Willow, he found the sun was now coming up, and instead of making a path toward the castle, Peter headed toward the lake. Instead of heading toward the hospital wing to warn someone of his friend's predicament, to save his friend, he headed toward the train station to try and save another.


	9. Anguish and Agony

Peter rushed through the woods, his breath short and coming in sharp, painful gasps like knives puncturing his lungs. His hair was blown back against his head from the wind and his pace.

_I must get there…_ he thought, frantic. _I must warn them of what I've done!_

Peter leapt over a log in his path, only to have his foot caught in a root just poking up from the ground, and he fell onto his face. He leaned up, spitting out leaves and dirt from his mouth, and trying to wipe his face with his dirtied hand. It was no use, he would never make it on time. Not running. Suddenly he could hear the voice of Sirius, tantalizing and vicious, shout through his mind.

_Are you a wizard or aren't you? You pig-headed git!_

Peter jumped up. He closed his eyes and focused on the thought of his friends once secure home. He had never been very accomplished when it came to Apparating, but if anytime came to make it priority, that time was now. Within a few seconds, with a brief period of a breathless whirlwind enclosing him, Peter found himself in an alleyway. He gave a gasp of relief, knowing he had made it in once piece to Godric's Hollow.

Peter ran out of the alleyway, looking in both directions when he exited it to see which way was correct to find his destination, and decided going left was it. He ran, hysterical, almost coming right before the gate until he noticed there was something obscure about the scene before him.

He stopped dead in his tracks, gazing at what lay before him. The home of his friends, of two of his dear friends he'd known from school, was in pieces. Two friends he had trusted, and whom had foolishly trusted him were now, he could tell from the appearance of their home, dead. James and Lily Potter were dead. And by his doing. It was he who told his Master where they were hiding, safely, away from his grasp. Peter was about to open the gate to investigate, perhaps they were still alive somehow, when he heard footsteps approaching from his right. Peter knew he could be caught here by any of the others, or they would surely murder him from sheer fury, but he could not leave yet.

Peter's eyes darted about his surroundings rapidly, searching for a haven to keep him away from incisive eyes but still in view of the demolished home. He saw a dark corner where a house met with a brick wall, just back the direction he had ran here from. Peter darted into it, crouched on his haunches and waited. The footsteps, it appeared, were much father off than he had first imagined, and once they had actually gotten close enough to see the source, he understood why. The footsteps were from a man at least ten times taller than himself and probably five times as wide. It was an enormous, towering bulk of a man whom, after a good minute thinking, Peter recalled. The enormous tangle of hair, covered everything on his head but a bit of rough skin and beady, twinkling eyes. But right now these eyes were twinkling not of the normal cheer from this ginormous being, but from the tears that were steadily creeping down his cheeks. It was a man known to Peter as Rubeus Hagrid.

Hagrid stopped before the gate and stopped a moment, gazing woefully at the scene laid out before him. His shoulders were shaking in silent sobs that Peter had no doubt would have been enormously thunderous had it not been for the fact that all of Godric's Hollow was peacefully sleeping, and did not need to be disturbed. Finally, the beastly figure pushed open the gate around the perimeter and walked up the path toward the rubble. Peter instinctively wondered why he would be going in there. Surely this man, who never really had any contact with him nor his friends, would need to go into their ruined home and stir things up. Peter was about to get up and stop him when he heard a rumbling overhead. His head jerked up to the sky, where he saw an enormous vehicle – a motorcycle from what Peter remembered Sirius raving on about on occasion – circling down toward the ground. It landed in the yard of the Potter home, and a familiar figure stepped off it.

Peter ducked even lower and pressed himself into the corner as best he could. He did not want to be seen by Sirius Black, who would surely kill him upon sight of him. Hagrid had also turned at the rumbling sound, and now the two men were talking amongst each other. They nodded and climbed up over the rubble of the home, it seemed they were searching for something. Finally, Sirius seemed to have located it and waved Hagrid over. He had lifted something out of the rubble, and after a moment an icy chill stole Peter's breath away. Sirius was holding a hand up from the rubble, attached to an arm, that seemed (Peter was grateful for this) to still be attached to something further beneath the debris. Hagrid came over and, with an uncontrollable sob that Peter could hear steal across the void of night, he stooped to remove the rubble, and picked up the body of James Potter. A whimper rose in Peter's throat, and tears stung at the corner of his eyes. Hagrid carried James' body out past the debris of the destroyed home and laid him down onto the green grass surrounding it, folding his hands over his stomach.

As he did this, Sirius had gone further into the wreckage to locate something more, and found it. He gently, as if caressing a love of his own, removed the small bits of stone and brick that covered Lily Potter's body and picked her up into his arms, where she hung limp. Hagrid, now hiccupping from holding back his wails, walked over and took her from Sirius to lay her at her rightful place, beside James' body. Sirius just stood for a moment, seeming dazed at the sight of his lifeless friends. _But of course he would be…_ Peter thought.

A noise, however, inaudible to Peter's ears seemed to catch Sirius' attention. He whirled and walked over to a form Peter had to peer at to make out. A crib. Sirius reached inside it and pulled out the small form of a baby. Peter's eyes lit up, he had forgotten about their son! And…was that…? Yes! The baby was moving! Their baby was alive!

Joy, fear, relief and dread all flooded through Peter at once. Not the whole Potter family was lost, but someday he might have to feel the wrath of the now orphaned son, but he had not doomed the entire family to death…but now he had left this poor child parentless. Tears streamed down Peter's face, though whether from happiness or anger or fear he did not know. Unable to control it, it seemed at the sight of the boy alive, Hagrid gave a defiant shout and ran over. They were talking now, and Peter wanted to hear what they were saying. In a moment, without really thinking, Peter transformed into his rat animagus and scuttled across the street, through the gate, and stole through the shadows and rubble until he was within earshot.

"…great man, Dumbledore. Sent me 'ere as soon as he found that baby 'Arry was still alive. Said I gotta take him ter this muggle home in Little Winging, the only place 'ere he'll be safe, so Dumbledore says." Hagrid was sniffling. Peter could see Sirius shaking his head, Holding the baby close to him.

"No, no…that can't be right. I'm his guardian, now. I'm his godfather, I should take him. I'll take care of him."

"Dumbledore said that'd be too dangerous," Hagrid almost seemed to plead, "said I gotta take him to the muggle home. If You-Know-Who's after 'im, we want him ter be in a safe place where he'll be taken good care of."

Sirius hesitated a good long moment before letting out a sigh of defeat and handing the baby into Hagrid's waiting arms.

"Dumbledore would know best, wouldn't he…"

"Great man, Dumbledore…"

Sirius nodded up to Hagrid.

"Yes…great man…"

Hagrid turned to leave, but Sirius halted him.

"Wait! You'd better take my bike, it'll get you there quicker. Muggle ears don't hear it's engine."

With a sob of gratitude, Hagrid turned back and pulled Sirius into a harsh hug, picking him right off the ground. Sirius patted Hagrid's arm and then was let down.

Without another word between any of them, Hagrid turned and walked over to the bike, taking one last longing look at the bodies he had laid out in the moonlight. He kick started the engine and it roared to life, lifting the enormous man into the air and then off into the night. Sirius merely stared after him for the longest time, until Peter tried shifting to head back to his dark corner and a bit of the rubble he was crouched in shifted.

Sirius' head jerked in the direction of the sound, but Peter was already scurrying off into the darkness, but he was sure Sirius had seen him.

Once under the cover of the alleyway he had arrived in, Peter disapparated back into the woods, on the exact spot he had tripped. He began trudging back, weighed down in his guilt. Mixed emotions were swirling through his head when Peter noticed the stench in the air. It was the smell of burning wood.

A single flood of pure horror ran through his veins, and Peter once again began running. He darted off in the woods until he came to its break, where his breath was once again stolen away from him. But this time he could not seem to gain it back.

The heat caused beads of sweat to form on his brow as he stepped closer, the bright flare of light made him squint. His home, the home he had settled in, where he was beginning a family, a life, was being destroyed before his eyes. The flames licked along the wood, seeming to tease him, it devoured everything.

_Adela!_His mind shrieked.

Peter began sprinting toward the burning building when he saw it. The light cast an ominous shadow over a black thing lying in the lawn. At first, Peter thought it was a plank of wood, fallen from the house, but the saw it was a figure. Peter could not breathe, he could barely move. He walked, slowly, over to the body, feeling as if this wasn't real.

This couldn't be happening…it just couldn't be happening…could it? She was safe! She was supposed to be safe!

Peter finally stood beside the figure. There was his wife. She was lying of her stomach, her face was white, her lips pale, and her eyes were open, gazing. Peter felt a tiny flicker of, not happiness, but pride in seeing that there was no fear in those eyes. Only, it seemed, concern shone through. Peter fell to his knees beside his love. She was dead.

Sobs trembled his body and he cried out, shouted, screamed at the top of his lungs."**Adela!**"

Then, all he could manage to scream were wails of dismay. She was gone.


End file.
